Chapter 8 LUCA
LUCA
Water spills uninterrupted over the stone tiers of the courtyard fountain below, exactly as it has for fifty years.
I lean against the cold marble column of the upper terrace with a cup of black coffee cooling in my palm, my eyes fixed on the gravel path.
Nora is walking through the lemon grove as if she holds the deed to the property.
She tugs the sleeves of a heavy woolen sweater down over her knuckles, burying both hands deep in the pockets.
Every few yards, she halts on the crushed limestone, tilting her head back to inspect the low branches of the citrus trees with a sharp, assessing gaze.
Ten paces behind her, two of Adrian's armed men match her pace step for step, their hands tucked near their jackets. She does not look back at them once.
Enzo drops onto the stone balustrade beside me, letting out a sharp whistle. He tracks my line of sight toward the path. "You've been watching her like a hawk for two hours, Luca. It's getting embarrassing."
"I'm waiting to see how long before she tries the gate," I answer without blinking, keeping my voice level.
Enzo shakes his head, grinning. "Sure you are. And I'm the Pope."
My grip tightens on the stone as I lean forward. "She timed the guards for twenty minutes. I'm watching a problem, that's all."
He snorts and steals the espresso cup from my hand before I can stop him. "You've assessed her twelve times since breakfast. At this point you're just collecting stamps."
I reach out to reclaim the porcelain before he finishes it. "Drink your own coffee."
Enzo dodges my hand with an easy twist of his shoulders. "I would, but yours has that lovely undertone of expensive desperation."
"And yours tastes like pure trouble." He takes a long sip and points down toward the trees. "She's checking the blind spots. Sal's throat is still black and blue from London, and she's already looking for doors."
Enzo points a thumb downward, chuckling. "She's trying to make a run for it. Look at her. She's figuring out how to jump the fence."
"She'd break an ankle and complain about the gravel the whole way down," I remark dryly.
"Right. And you suddenly care about gravel. Don't lie to me." Enzo kicks his heels against the wall. "Just admit you can't stop staring and let it go."
I watch Nora kick a piece of limestone across the dirt. "I don't obsess over people."
"Sure, and Matteo only drinks tap water," Enzo laughs, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
"You've been up here long enough to grow moss. Sofia asked if you'd died. Nonna asked if you wanted lunch brought to the railing. Matteo asked if he should start a betting pool on how long until you climb down there and do something stupid."
I take the cup back with a firm jerk. "Matteo can bet on his own medical bills if he opens his mouth again."
Enzo rests his elbows on his knees. "He offered three to one odds on before lunch. I took the under."
Enzo grins, the bruise on his cheek pulling tight as he tilts his head toward me. "So what's the plan? Do you keep her forever because she talks back, or do we put her on a plane once the Bellinis back off?"
"She stays," I tell him, my voice dropping until his grin disappears. "Whatever comes onto my land belongs to me. That's the end of it."
"You usually don't stare at prisoners like that from the roof, boss," Enzo shoots back with a smirk.
The honest answer sits in my throat like something I refuse to swallow.
I watch Nora crouch to examine a cracked tile near the fountain, completely unbothered by the two armed men pretending to smoke nearby.
She mutters something that makes one of the guards chuckle, an unforgivable breach of protocol I will handle personally before noon.
"The plan," I repeat, keeping my eyes fixed ahead, "is keeping her safe until things calm down."
"Safe. Right." Enzo hops down and claps my shoulder hard. "You are so obvious, big brother. But sure. Let's call it keeping her safe. I'll go tell Nonna you're hard at work standing by the rail."
"Tell Nonna anything and you are on pantry inventory for a month," I threaten quietly.
Enzo backs toward the stairwell, chuckling. "Worth it."
He leaves before I can throw him over the rail. Smart kid.
I stay where I am. Nora has moved to the far edge of the courtyard, where the olive trees throw shade thick enough to hide in. She tips her face up toward the sun like London never invented weather. Something in my chest pulls tight, ugly and unwelcome.
This stopped being a logistical mistake the second she arrived tied and fighting in my foyer. It is a sickness now. A dark, predatory urge to cage her completely, to watch her realize that no amount of money or legal threats can claw her out of my hands.
I go downstairs.
Gravel crunches under my boots before I reach the grass.
Nora spins around on the heels of her shoes, hands buried deep in her pockets.
Her chin comes up immediately, eyes narrowing as she scans my face, calculating angles and leverage with cold, steady focus.
The skin around her lower lashes is still puffy and flushed from last night, but her spine stays rigid as iron.
She crosses her arms over her chest. "Standing on balconies and staring down like a creep is bad manners in most places."
I stop inches away from her, towering over her until my shadow swallows her completely. "Good thing I make the laws here, Blake. Are you enjoying your cage, or are you still plotting which guard to stab with a fountain pen?"
She tilts her chin to inspect my jacket. "Your guards are boring. One offered me a smoke. I told him to fix his life. You look grumpy. Did someone ruin your morning nap?"
I stop an arm's length away from her. "My morning was fine until you started talking."
She nods toward the balcony above. "Your brother seemed happy enough. He waved at me while you were busy scowling."
I fall into step as she turns toward the lemon grove. "Enzo has far too much free time."
She slows her steps to see if I follow. "Enzo actually has eyes, which makes him smarter than your guards. So why were you staring at me for two hours, or do you just like following people around?"
I match her pace along the path. "I'm checking the grounds."
She keeps her eyes forward, unimpressed. "The grounds? Sure. You look like you want to kill someone just for breathing near you. Can you ever relax?"
I stay right beside her. "I run this place."
"Right." She stops dead beneath the branches and turns so fast I nearly bump into her. "Go on, Moretti. Spit it out. You look like you walked down here to pick a fight and forgot what to say."
I should send her inside. I should put three more men on her rotation and go back to the war room where problems have clean edges. Instead I step closer, close enough that she has to tilt her chin up.
I step closer until our shadows blend together on the stone. "You're trouble I didn't ask for."
"Then let me go home," she challenges, though her voice catches for a second. "You know this is crazy. I don't belong here. If you're keeping me locked up, tell me what you actually want."
I watch the pulse jump in her throat. "I want you where I can see you, Blake."
"That sounds fucked-up, even for you," she mutters, her gaze locked on mine.
I lean down until she has to meet my eyes. "I'm just talking to you."
She pushes a flat palm against my chest. "Then tell the truth. You still have my phone. What did you tell my office? Amelia heard them shove me in that car. What did you tell my parents?"
"We sent your assistant an email before she called anyone," I explain quietly. "Used a voice clip to tell her you had an emergency client job in Switzerland. We wired money to your firm. Your parents got flowers and a card saying you'd be busy for a few weeks."
"You hacked my firm and forged messages to my family," she whispers, her eyes flashing with disbelief.
I take another half step forward. "I stopped people from panicking. And you're not getting your phone back because you'd call the cops in five seconds."
"Damn right I would," she snaps back, refusing to step away. "So make up your mind, Moretti. Last night you sat in my room until I stopped shaking, and this morning you stalk me from the roof. What do you want?"
I do not give her an answer. My fingers wrap around the front of her neck, my palm settling flat against her collarbone before she can take another breath.
I keep the pressure light enough for air to pass, but firm enough that she cannot turn away.
Her chin jerks up, the pulse under my thumb kicking hard and fast against my skin.
My thumb rubs over the racing beat in her neck. "This is me saying you're not going back to London. You aren't just some mistake anymore, Blake. You're staying right here."
Her mouth opens, then closes. For once she doesn't have a ready line. I watch the realization hit her in real time, watch her try to shove it back into the professional box she lives in.
"That's completely stupid," she breathes out, her chest rising fast against mine. "You run a crime family. I'm a mess with a British passport who hates being told what to do. Put me on a flight before I make your life hell."
"Probably," I agree, my gaze dropping to her mouth.
"Don't just agree with me, fight back," she whispers, her jacket brushing my shirt.
"I know the trouble you bring," I murmur, running my thumb over her bottom lip.
She searches my face, her voice dropping soft. "And you still won't call a car."
I do not move an inch. "Not a chance."
She lets out a short, dry laugh. "You're crazy.
Completely out of your mind. Listen to yourself.
Sorry I kidnapped you, but I like having you in my garden.
" She leans in instead of backing away, her hand catching my sleeve.
"Say what you mean. If you're going to lose your mind, at least speak plain English. "
I lean down to her ear. "You want it plain?"
"I do," she whispers, her breath catching against my cheek.
I could still stop this. I don't.
"You're stuck with me now," I say softly, my mouth touching the curve of her ear. "Yell for your lawyers. Call the cops. No one is getting you through that gate. I'd kill anyone who tried."
Nora's free hand comes up and settles against my chest, not pushing, just resting there like she's checking whether I have a heartbeat worth arguing with.
Her fingers twist into my shirt. "You really are insane," she mutters, her voice turning rough. "Completely nuts. And if you think I'm going to fall for this tough-guy act, you picked the wrong girl."
"You're the only one here, Blake," I remind her quietly.
"Too bad for both of us," she huffs, though she doesn't let go of my clothes.
I shove her back hard against the rough bark of the olive tree. Wood groans behind her spine as I trap both of her wrists above her head with one iron fist, pinning her with crushing, unyielding weight. Her chest heaves against mine, nostrils flaring as she stares into the darkness of my eyes.
"Luca," she gasps, her head tipping back against the rough bark as my chest presses against hers.
My grip holds her wrists secure against the bark. "I am listening."
Her lips part as she catches her breath. "If you kiss me right now, I will make your life a nightmare."
I tilt my head down. "I can live with that."
"This is a terrible idea," she whispers against my skin.
"I don't care," I tell her, and shut her up completely.
I crush my mouth down onto hers with vicious, unhinged hunger.
I bite into her bottom lip until I taste the sharp copper tang of blood, invading her mouth when she gasps with a ruthless, claiming dominance.
She whimpers against my lips, her body arching involuntarily into my hips as my free hand digs into her waist with bruising force.
When I break the kiss she's breathing harder than I am. Her mouth is red. She looks furious about how much she liked it.
"That," she breathes, planting both hands against my chest to shove me back, "was way out of line."
My thumb wipes away the bead of red on her lower lip. "This is my house, Blake. I do what I want."
Her eyes flash with fury, dark and wide, her throat working as she glares up at me.
"Touch me like that again," she warns, trying to sound fierce even while her voice shakes, "and I'll break your nose."
I brush a stray strand of dark hair away from her temple. "You can try."
She lets her head fall back against the rough bark. "I won't just try, Moretti. I'll make you regret ever dragging me out of London."
I let her wrist go. She doesn't move away. She just stands there under my olive tree looking like she might either slap me or climb me, and for the first time in ten years the war in my head goes quiet enough to hear something else.
Enzo's voice drifts down from the terrace, way too loud. "Matteo owes me fifty bucks!"
"I'm putting him on night shifts for a year," I mutter under my breath.
Nora drops her forehead against my shoulder with a groan. "I hate your whole family."
My hand rests against the small of her back. "Join the club."
My hand tightens on her hip as I lean down to her cheek. "Get used to it, Nora. Because you're not going anywhere."